


Don't Wake Me

by fencecollapsed



Series: Half-Infected Paul [7]
Category: The Guy Who Didn't Like Musicals - Team StarKid
Genre: Angst, Crying, Emotional Constipation, F/M, Half Infected Paul Matthews, Hurt/Comfort, Hypnotism, Obedience, Panic Attacks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-22
Updated: 2020-11-22
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:36:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27675473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fencecollapsed/pseuds/fencecollapsed
Summary: Paul's been stuck in a trance for over twelve straight hours. Emma has to wake him up.
Relationships: Paul Matthews/Emma Perkins
Series: Half-Infected Paul [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1718695
Comments: 5
Kudos: 48





	Don't Wake Me

**Author's Note:**

> This started as a ramble on discord and then I wanted to write it,, shoutout to my friends who've been subject to the trance/hypnosis kick I've been on this week hdjskjd love yall thanks for putting up with me <3
> 
> Anyway here's this

Emma woke not too long after the sunrise. Pretty, fiery morning light still spilled through her bedroom window, washing the Colorado mountains in gold. Emma huffed out a sleepy sigh, squinting at the sight. She rolled over in bed, only to find the other side vacant. No cozy arms to cuddle in for a few extra minutes. No sleepy morning kiss. No Paul.

Right, shit.

Emma sat up, rubbing her eyes and yawning, more alert now that the previous day was filing its events back into her mind. She slipped out of bed and trudged down the hall. It didn't mean anything that he hadn't come to bed. Plenty of nights were sleepless for Paul, he'd probably just decided to stay up. He was probably in the kitchen making his coffee right now.

Part of her knew he wasn't.

She saw the TV first, playing some inane, brightly-colored Saturday morning cartoon. She had no idea if it had been a bad idea or not to leave it on for him the previous night. It could have entertained him awake, or it could have hammered him deeper into his waking coma with its repetitive advertisements. Paul hated commercialization. She had no idea how much information he could even register when he was left like that. Regardless, Paul was sitting on the sofa, exactly where Emma had left him last night. He hadn't moved a muscle, his back straight, arms laying out at his sides, legs stiff like a doll posed on a shelf. His expression remained unchanged as well, jaw slack, slowly dripping blue down his chin, eyes half-lidded and brightly glowing but completely empty. Void of thought, of person, of  _ Paul.  _ He stared straight ahead, blankly through the TV screen in front of him, like he couldn't even see it. Emma waved her hand in front of his face to no reaction, not even a flinch. She sighed.

She'd come home to him standing in the hallway the previous day, completely still, staring at the wall. Just like this. Well over twelve hours had gone by, and all that had changed was his position, and only because Emma told him to. 

Paul had a tendency to snap into trance. It was something his mind did when he was under too much stress - it sought command. It was good for him, he told her. It was something he needed. Emma obliged him, giving him tasks to carry out, errands to run for her when he required obedience. Hell, they'd even started working hypnosis into their leisure time because Paul admitted it relaxed him so much. Scenarios of this sort were not unfamiliar.

But the trances had never been like this before. This had Paul completely unresponsive. A robot void of charm and personality, programmed entirely to carry out orders he was given and nothing else. The trances made Paul blank, sure - if she asked him his name he wouldn't remember it, but he was always still  _ him  _ to a degree. Just much, much happier and sleepier and stupider. And singsong-y. And of course, perfectly obedient. But still  _ Paul. _ This was not Paul. This was an empty vessel, and he'd been an empty vessel since Emma had come home the afternoon before.

"Bring me some water," She'd ordered.

Paul had stumbled his way into the kitchen and returned a minute later with a glass of water.

"Thanks," Emma had said, taking it from him.

Nothing. Usually when she thanked him, even deep in trance, he would smile at her. That day he just stared straight through her, like she'd vanished from his sight the moment he'd carried out her command. It made Emma uncomfortable.

She'd placed her hand on his shoulder and told him she was going to wake him up now. His body moved like he was submerged in molasses, slow and heavy, but he pushed her away. He said  _ no. _ He said  _ please. _ Spoken with the hushed slur of a man who was deep, deep asleep, but spoken all the same.

Though reluctant, Emma figured he was present enough to be safe. She'd let him be. She'd asked him to bring her things, to adjust her chair when she needed it, to turn the lights on when it got too dark. After all, this was how it worked. It was better for him the more he was able to obey, and he would come out of it naturally once he was ready. He always did.

Emma pushed her hand through her hair, looking at him the next morning, unchanged. Guilt weighed heavy in her stomach. She'd left him like this. She'd made him fix her dinner like this. She'd obliged him when he pushed away her second attempt to wake him, once again mumbling  _ no. _ Once again mumbling  _ please. _ She'd slept through the night with him left like this, stupidly convinced he would be back to normal in the morning.

She was a fucking idiot.

"Alright, Paul," she sighed, plopping down next to him on the sofa. "Time to wake up."

He moved to protest, the  _ no _ and the  _ please _ already falling from his lips. Emma refused to let him, gripping his neck and jamming her fingers hard into a pressure point that would hopefully shock his body enough to jolt him out of his trance. Would it even work when he was this deep down, she didn't know, but it was the only solution she had. His body jerked and he cried out in surprise, quickly straightening back up. He blinked his eyes wide, the glow beginning to dim. Emma released him, beaming bright with relief as Paul returned to consciousness.

"Oh, thank god," she sighed.

Paul looked at her, wide-eyed, and she waited for his expression to break into a smile. Instead his brows tightened, his lips curled down, tears welled in his eyes, and he gasped for air before crumbling into heavy sobs. Reacting quickly, Emma threw her arms around him, rubbing his back. She should have considered this. It had to be terrifying to have been trapped in his subconscious for so long. She held him tight.

"Shh it's okay," she said, "It's okay, you're back,"

Paul only sobbed harder, his body trembling in Emma's arms. "W-why did you…" he stammered, hiccuping painfully. "Why did y-you w-w-wake me up…"

Emma's heart dropped. "What?"

Paul's hands knit into his hair, holding his head tightly. "I-it's too much! I can't… c-can't do it anymore, don't w-want…"

"Shh, breathe."

"I can't go back, I  _ can't," _ he whimpered, shaking, burying his face in his knees. "Please don't… don't m-make me think anymore,"

"Paul, you-" Emma stopped, silencing her own shaky voice before she could tell him he didn't mean that.

Maybe he did. At least part of him did. This part, right now, who'd just woken up from a trance so long and so deep, he probably meant a lot of things he usually wouldn't. It wasn't Emma's place to tell him what he felt. It wouldn't be fair of her after she'd left him like that. Tears of her own pricked in her eyes, but she just hugged Paul tighter, trying to rock him a little bit, trying to make it steady. Trying to calm him down. "You're okay."

He sobbed.

"Put me back under, please I- I need to-!" He begged. "Need to go back, c-can't do it, please…"

"Just breathe, Paul."

Emma hated hearing this as much as Paul hated being awake right now. But she swallowed her discomfort and held him tighter, running her fingers into his hair the way she knew soothed him, listening as he cried and hiccuped and struggled for breath. He begged to return to his trance. He pleaded to have his mind emptied, to be freed from the burden of thought again. It was too much to come back to, Emma realized, snapping back to a full mind so quickly was too much for him to handle. He implored her to send him back to sleep. To leave him there.

Emma sniffled, blinking back the sting of her own tears. She said  _ no.  _ She said  _ please. _

\--

Paul settled down eventually. He pulled himself out of Emma's arms and wiped his eyes, and said he was fine. Said he was sorry.

"Do you want breakfast?" He asked.

"It's fine, I can make it myself-"

He looked at her, his eyes sad but firm. An unmistakable  _ let me do this. _ Emma bit back her protest.

"Just toast."

"Okay."

"Thanks."

Paul smiled softly. Emma followed him to the kitchen, not wanting to leave him alone, and felt extra reassured that he was humming. That he took her hand and held it. He was okay.

"I'm not really sure what happened," he said quietly, grabbing the bread bag from off the top of the fridge. "I don't think I want to know. My head hurt a lot. We've been busy lately, I've been tired, I think I… missed a birthday, too. Someone important who's not here anymore. I don't know. It hurt a lot, and then it just stopped. Started again when you woke me up. Sorry about that."

He slipped two slices of bread into the toaster. Emma squeezed his shoulder. "It's okay, man."

He smiled weakly. "No it's not. I know that sucked, Em. I won't let it happen again, promise."

"Paul-"

He held up his hand. "I'd rather not talk about it anymore."

Emma sighed. "Okay."

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! <3


End file.
